


Until We Meet

by memoriesofrain



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drugs, F/M, M/M, PDS Sufferers, Slow Build, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, Suicide, pds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2009175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memoriesofrain/pseuds/memoriesofrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The countdown stood out against everyone's skin. Each color the numbers changed meant something: sick, hurt, dead.<br/>Kieren Walker's countdown began changing colors when he was nine years old and stopped the day he died. But when he rose, his countdown began again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Kieren Walker

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta-ed, so please excuse any typos.

It started in the 70s; little nonsensical numbers running vertically up the right arm of random people. The numbers were all different, but all had one thing in common: all were counting down to zero. People feared that the number was telling them when they would die, others thought of the numbers as some sort of evil. It wasn't until 1976 that sociologists discovered what the numbers actually meant. Two individuals were discovered to share the same number and with the help of the group of sociologists studying the numbers, they were able to meet.

  
When the two people sharing the counting down numbers met, their clocks reached zero and the two burst into tears. At first neither the two or the sociologists knew what was going on, but it was later decided that the two were soulmates.

  
Soon after that everyone was being born with a countdown on their arm. The older generation still had doubts in the idea of soulmates, but didn't show outright disdain for the idea of them.

  
The countdown wasn't perfect though. Oftentimes before the two people met, one would die and their soulmates number would turn black and the numbers would stop counting down. Sometimes people ignored the number and let their soulmates pass them by.

  
The color of the number was what people had to pay attention to. When your soulmate was sick, even if you hadn't met them yet, would turn a sickly yellow color. When they were hurt it'd turn red.

  
Kieren's countdown had been an orange color for months. He noticed it while he sat in the cave with Rick and couldn't help the flinch at the violent orange stretched across his arm.

  
"What's up, Ren?" Rick asked picking up on Kieren's sudden distress.

  
"It's just... it's never been orange before," He confessed softly.

  
Kieren saw Rick's demeanor change from concerned to bitter. Rick was one if the few born with his countdown already at zero, the black harsh against the skin of a screaming baby.

  
"You're soulmate will live through it," Rick grumbled, pull in Kieren closer to his body. "He should be here already, your knight in shying armor."

  
"Rick, that's not how it works. I have to wait for the timer to get down to zero."

  
"Well, why can't I be your soulmate for now? I can keep you happy."

  
Kieren looked at Rick with wide eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd asked Kieren to let them be together, Rick was his best friend. He knew how much Rick wanted to have a soulmate, how much he desired to have that connection he'd never get. This was something Kieren could do for Rick by just being himself. It never had to go further than kissing, Rick would respect his boundaries.

  
"Do you promise not to go further than kissing?" Kieren asked, not meeting Rick's eyes. As much as he wanted to give something to Rick, he still felt like he was betraying his soulmate, especially while the number was still the color it was.

  
Kieren didn't receive an answer from Rick before rough lips were moving against his. The kiss was rough and wet with Rick grasping at Kieren, trying to pull him closer, still so desperate for that deeper connection. Kieren tried to give Rick what he wanted, tried to allow him some semblance of the bond, but could only press his lips to the other in soft movements.

  
When the two separated Rick gave Kieren the biggest smile Kieren had seen on Rick's face since he had successfully nabbed two bottles of beer from his father's storage five weeks ago. Rick pulled him into a hug and leaned his face into his hair.

  
"I love you, Ren," Rick mumbled into his mop of hair.

  
It took all that Kieren had not to burst into tears at the confession. He knew that he could never love Rick like he did him: unrestrained, fully, not hindered by a countdown that changed colors more often than a chameleon.

  
"I-I love you too, Rick," he whispered back. Because that was the only thing Kieren could do for Rick, he was only Kieren Walker.

* * *

 

The next day Kieren woke up to find that Rick had left for basic training, not even a note left behind for him. Kieren felt both relieved and hurt by the situation. He was happy that he wouldn't have to be Rick's pseudo-soulmate, but was hurt that Rick couldn't stand a full day as his soulmate before running away, not that Kieren really blamed him. He was just Kieren Walker, the shy, queer artist who worried about the various colors of his countdown more than he did his paint palettes.

* * *

  
A few months later and he received the news that Rick had been caught in an explosion and was announced dead. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, none of his thousands of letters had been returned, not even a simple "hello" had been sent back and now he'd never get a reply.

  
He went through the motions of putting on the black suit. The rain splatter against an empty casket as it was lowered into the ground. Kieren had taken off his jacket and placed it over Jem's shoulders to keep her dry and which is how he saw it happen.

  
The white of his dress shirt had gone nearly see through from the rain and only the decision of wearing an undershirt saved him from embarrassment. But the undershirt didn't cover his arms. He caught it out of the corner of his eye. The sickly yellow that had been there for nearly a day slowly faded into an murky yellowish-green before seeping into inky horror.

  
Kieren couldn't stop himself from running from Rick's funeral. He couldn't think. All he could see was black numbers stopped at 1 year 5 months 22 days 3 hours 43 minutes 8 seconds. 1:05:22:03:43 scrawled across his arm in black. He'd never seen something so ugly.

  
Before he realized it he was in the cave Rick and he had hung out in more often than not. He looked at the spray painted words "Rick + Ren 4ever". It had been something cute they had done when they were younger, gave Rick a sense of comfort that he wouldn't be alone. All it did for Kieren was make him feel more alone.

  
He fiddled desperately around in the pockets of his dress pants, pulling out the present he'd received from his father: a silver army knife. He flicked the blade open carefully as to not cut his fingers, he knew what he was doing.

  
With the precision he'd gained from his art he dragged the knife across the black numbers; felt the warmth of blood bubble over the top and bottom of the numbers.  
Satisfied with his work on his right arm, he repeated the action across his other arm, letting his blood drip onto his white shirt.

  
He let the knife rest in his hands as he relaxed his arms. He vaguely wondered if the college would give his scholarship away to someone else, someone who knew how much red was needed to complete the painting. He regretted not writing something to his family, but couldn't bring himself to care too much about it.

  
After all, he was just Kieren Walker, not even his soulmate wanted him.


	2. Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rising was an odd experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta-ed so excuse any typos, please!

When Kieren woke up, he woke up to darkness. He wildly turned his head from side to side, searching for a glimpse of light, but all he saw was black. He raised his arms and pounded at the force above him - Listening to the dulled knocking sound that came back to his ears in between the noise of his panting.

Desperately clawing at the silk covered wood, he shoved himself against it. He felt it give slightly at his advances and renewed his efforts with determination and fear motivating him.

He slowly broke through the wood that was encasing him and felt the moist earth greet his fingers. He continued clawing, moving clumps of earth aside to allow himself to climb farther up, further from the wooden box.

Suddenly his fingers couldn't claw up anymore, the dirty fingers grasping at thin air. Air.

Shoving himself the rest of the way out of his self made hole he desperately gasped at the air around him. He felt the rain splash against his cheeks, washing away some of the dirt that covered him.

The fear he felt previously seemed to melt away from his body. Looking around him he noticed the bodies coming out of what he now knew were graves.

He didn't bother to look at the crossed out numbers on his arms. He wasn't sure who he was, but he was hungry.

* * *

 

The next time Kieren woke up he was in Norfolk Treatment Center being treated for Partially Deceased Syndrome, or PDS  as it was shortened.

"Where am I?" Kieren stuttered out, looking at the men and women in white uniforms.

"You're in Norfolk Treatment Center, you're being treated for PDS," the man in front of him told calmly,  putting an odd device on the table along with an empty bottle.

"PDS?"

"Partially Deceased Syndrome, you've been a sufferer since the rising."

"The rising?"

After an abbreviated history lesson, Kieren sat, taking in his surroundings. An off-white room with minimal furnishings. Curtains of hospital blue fluttered from the air conditioning that buzzed from the old vent that hugged the ceiling.

He turned his attention to his hands, taking in the grayish white of his skin that was not unlike the walls of the room. He inspected his fingernails that had turned a deep purple, displaying his post-mortem state to the world. Letting his eyes travel up, he stopped at his death wound.

The wound was held together with a neat row of staples, allowing the numbers he had cut in half to meet again. He watched the green numbers countdown on his arm. Countdown on his arm?

He brought his arm up to his face to inspect the numbers 00:07:11:02:33:12... 11... 10.

He was going to meet his soulmate in seven months, 11 days, two hours, 33 minutes, seven seconds, six seconds, five seconds.

"Oh, you've noticed your countdown started again," the doctor commented happily. "Lucky for you, your soulmate must have risen too."

He could only watch the numbers in amazement. He was Kieren Walker and maybe his soulmate wanted him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you stuck around for another chapter! :D Feel free to tell me what you think of the story so far. All comments, kudos, subscribings (is that a thing?), and other things are appreciated and make me want to write more :)


	3. Norfolk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this is unbeta'd (What is the actual word?) so I hope that you'll excuse any small mistakes.

With his countdown started back up, Kieren should have held a sense of hope. He could still meet his soulmate, have that special bond that was so sought after. Only Kieren couldn't bare to look at his countdown anymore. He'd slashed across the frozen numbers in a fit of hurt and anger; abandonment fresh on his mind. How could he face his soulmate when he had wanted to distance himself from the very thing that connected them?

That was why Kieren took every opportunity to wear long sleeves; to cover up a mistake that even disturbed himself.

"So Kieren, how are you today?" His doctor asked with a smile.

Kieren dragged himself away from his contemplation of his countdown to answer his doctor, "I think I'm feeling better today."

"Good, very good, any flashbacks?"

"Just when I take theNortriptyline, it's always the same thing too," Kieren confessed, "I'm in the supermarket and I attack this girl-"

"You were untreated, it wasn't your fault, remember the exercise," the doctor corrected.

Kieren sighed and grabbed the mirror that was offered to him. "I am a PDS sufferer and can not be held accountable for what I did in my untreated state," he recited as he usually did, reluctantly and then quickly as if he couldn't get the words off his tongue fast enough.

"Good," the doctor praised turning to grab his dose of medicine. "I've noticed that you haven't been looking at your countdown, do you know what it's at now?"

"A little more than seven months."

"Why not show your countdown off? Be proud of the numbers that still countdown on your arm."

Kieren paused, playing with his sleeve to pretend to be contemplating his answer. He knew he'd have to say something eventually, his doctor had a way of pulling the truth out of his patients. "I feel like I've tainted our bond," Kieren muttered.

"Because of how you died?"

"Yeah, I mean, who does that?" Kieren asked, his own self loathing adding another layer of clothing to cover his arms.

The doctor gave him a look and shrugged his shoulders. "People do crazy things when they're in love," he stated simply, lining the gun to the hole in the back of his neck.

Without further discussion the medicine was depressed into his body with a flex of the trigger. Memories of the supermarket came back to him, of the blood and cerebral tissue swishing around in his mouth. The blood that coated his arms just like the afternoon he slashed the black on his arm.

An unnecessary gasp leapt from him and he clung to the white coat of his doctor. Every time without fail, the same flashbacks, the same sad tale of poor Kieren Walker.

The doctor chanted his name until he released his hold on the doctor's coat.

"That's it, Kieren," the doctor said, "now all you have to do is get through final examinations and you can go home."

Home. He hadn't thought too much about it especially when he thought about how he said goodbye to them or the lack of a goodbye. He wondered if Jem's countdown had reached zero by now; he couldn't remember the exact number it had been when she last showed him, but there hadn't been a terribly large amount of time left on it. He wondered which one of his parents found his body and how long it took them to start searching. He wondered what they thought about his ruined countdown.

"That sounds... nice," Kieren mumbled.

The rest of the day followed in a similar pattern of melancholy and 'what if's until he got to his final group therapy session before the examination.

His roommate, Alex sat beside him, black hair, attitude seeping out of his stitched skin. Alex wasn't like him; not only did he not feel guilty for what he had done in his untreated state, but also his roommate's countdown was black, unchanging: soulmate dead. His roommate was never bothered by them though, in fact he seemed to relish in the "freedom" it gave him. Kieren found it mildly disturbing.

He looked around at the other people there, some more decayed than others, but all with the same pale skin, same pin-prick eyes, same outfit that all the patients were given. He’d indulged his mind in the the morbid guessing game, “guess the cause of death” during one of his first sessions and their appearance didn’t phase him at all anymore.

Kieren softly explained to the group what the worst side effect of the Nortriptyline was for him. “...the worst side effect, for me, is the flashbacks,” Kieren explained, fiddling with the cuff of the sleeve on his right arm. “It’s always of the last person that I... Before... When I was... When I was in my Untreated State. Me and another dea -PDS sufferer- we hunted together and we were in this supermarket and this girl was there and, and I....It’s so vivid what we - what I did to her and the guilt. It’s crippling. But you know, I guess I deserve it.”

Alex snorted at his speech and turned his whole attention to him. “Mate, if you hadn’t’ve fed on her you’d have rotted away yourself,” Alex said, “You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“Alex-”

“They killed us too during the Rising. Seeing the bloody numbers counting down on our arms, obviously signifying us as the same as them, but blowing our heads off without a second thought,” Alex snapped, “But oh, oh, that’s ‘defending humanity’ so that’s okay. That’s not murder, that’s being a hero. While they get medals, we get medicated.”

Alex had always been angry, always felt that he had a right to do what he did when he was untreated. Kieren watched as Alex and Hannah riled each other up with snappy insults and bringing up past addictions. Luckily Keith, the advisor to this whole thing stepped in and put a stop to it.

“You’re all on edge,” Keith reasoned, “Because of Sunday. Am I right? It’s normal to be nervous about going back. But with the cover up mousse you’re getting and - hey I see some of you have already started trying out your new contact lenses. How are they feeling?”

Kieren gave a few harsh blinks to readjust the contact into the right position. It was thick and barely bendy, reminiscent of dried acrylic paint that had been peeled from his pallet. “A bit unnatural,” Kieren confessed.

Alex gave a cruel smile at the statement. “That’s cos they are unnatural! Invented by the living to hide our true selves,” he hissed.

“Pin prick and proud,” Hannah joked, receiving some chuckles from the others around the circle.

Keith nodded his head good-naturedly at the laughter. “Couple of smiles. Good. Keep it up. On Sunday you’re gonna be seeing your family and friends again,” he said, gazing around at the group before landing on Kieren who was rubbing his eyes. “Kieren, mate, who are you looking forward to seeing?”

Kieren stopped rubbing his eyes to take in the question he was asked. “My little sister, Jem,” he said, forgetting his discomfort.

“You got a soulmate out there too, don’t ya’?” Keith asked, receiving a nod from Kieren. “I bet ya’ can’t wait to get your hands on them.”

“Yeah… I guess so,” Kieren mumbled. In truth, Kieren didn’t know if he’d ever be truly ready to meet his soulmate now, but he could still dream about them sometimes.

The rest of the day was uneventful, mainly everyone was getting ready to be transferred to the place where they’d meet their families. Getting ready involved standing in queue waiting to sit down opposite a treatment assistant who had boxes upon boxes of “IRISALWAYS CONTACT LENSES”. After waiting a few more moments, Kieren was able to sit down at the vacant seat.

“Name?” The assistant asked tonelessly.

“Kieren Walker.”

The assistant checked the list to make sure his name was on it.

“Blue or brown?”

Kieren looked at the assistant with confusion. “I don’t…” He started, hinting that he needed more information to answer her question.

“Did you have blue eyes or brown eyes?” She clarified shortly.

Kieren had to think about that, he had forgotten that his eyes hadn’t always been the pin pricks that they were now. Noticing the treatment assistant’s impatient look he quickly said, “Brown.”

She gave him three boxes with the word “Brown” on the side and shouted for the next PDS sufferer to come forward.

He met up with Alex in the rec room. Alex sat in his corner, reading mail, something he did everyday even when he only got ads.

Sitting down next to him, Kieren started the conversation. “You know it wouldn’t hurt for you to interact with everyone.”

Alex looked up from his mail and gave Kieren a flat look. “Why should I interact with them? The reason I’m glad my soulmate isn’t alive is because I don’t want to interact with them,” Alex explained.

Kieren flinched at his roommate’s words. No matter how often he heard Alex talk badly about soulmates Kieren would never get used to it. “Keith says you’re talking bollocks when you throw around your disdain for the countdowns.”

“Course he does. He’s one of them. The living. Can’t trust a word they say.”

Kieren watches Alex take out a pen and scribble a website address on one of the envelopes in his lap. “This is a guy you can trust, Kier,” he whispered, handing Kieren the envelope. “One I told you about; The Undead Prophet. That’s his website. When you get home, check it out. He’ll blow your mind.” He pauses in his discussion of the prophet. “Think there’s a letter from your folks in there.”

Kieren takes the mail from Alex, digging through the slips of paper to find the one addressed to him. He notices an unmarked package near the middle of the stack. Carefully, Kieren opens the package, tipping it to the side to allow the object to roll out. A blue bottle of pills with only a small logo of an arm bursting through a grave, the hand clenched in a fist.

Before Kieren can examine the bottle further, Alex grabs it from his hand and gives it a little shake in front of his face. “These are mine, mate,” Alex said with a grin.

“What are they?” Kieren asks.

“There from the prophet.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the ringing bell. Everyone in the rec room stopped what they were doing and began filing out of the room.

“Shot time,” Alex said.

\---------------------------

Soldiers are posted along the hallways, weapons at the ready in case something happens. Kieren tugs at his sleeves to make sure they’re covering his wrists and chances a glance at Alex who has stepped away from the group. He watches as Alex opens the little blue bottle and tap out little pills in his hand. It’s weird watching Alex swallow the pills; none of them have had to swallow anything since they were in their untreated state.

Alex seemed to be fine from whatever he took until he lets out a low groan. By now they’re in line, waiting for their final shot, their ticket out of this place.

“Mate? Alex? What did you take?” Kieren asks. Alex is panting, unnecessary, but his body seems to crave the illusion of fresh oxygen seeping into his lungs. Alex looks awful. Seeing the nurse approaching them he tries to reason with her. “Nurse, my room mate, he, he, he’s taken something and I think -”

Before he could finish the nurse had already injected Alex. And that is when the real terror starts.  Alex twitches, like normal, like every other PDS sufferer, but then he shudders violently. It’s horrifying, watching his roommate convulse and blood pour out his mouth.

After that it’s wild; shouts and panicked voices screaming codes and men with stun guns. He watches Alex lash out like they all did in their rabid state, untreated. He watches Alex’s body collapse to the ground in a heap where men pick him up.

“Where are they taking him?” Kieren asked, trying to get the nurses attention. She walks away.

Kieren examines his roommate, his somewhat friend. He glances at the black countdown on Alex’s arm and swears that the numbers have been smeared across his arm. They’re illegible, not even one number is conceivable in the array of black on Alex’s arm.

He pulls at his sleeve cuffs and waits for this to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to update, but I was on vacation to see my Aunts with my twin. I would also like to inform you all that I have surgery today so I will not be updating this for a couple of days. I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter! Comment if you have time :)


	4. Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing his parents again was more daunting than he thought.

It was finally the day. The day they were all supposed to go home; the day he’d be picked up by his parents. He’d never been more terrified.

Clutching his white suitcase he shuffled his way towards the vehicle where the soldiers IDed him and let him enter the van. Kieren’s not sure why they’re leaving the treatment center or where they’re going and he wonders if it’s because of Alex. All he can do is wait for the vehicle to let them out.

* * *

 

He’s been informed they’ve been brought to the Family Liaison Building, a place that won’t disturb family members into believing their loved ones were mistreated. He has to admit staring around the room, it’s a clever ruse.

It isn’t anything much, just a simple room with twin beds, one obviously meant for Alex, and a plant in the corner, but he’s never seen anything so beautiful. It’s something that’s his, he’s the first occupier of this room, but glancing outside the windows he knows he doesn’t have much time left here. His parents will be here soon; he stumbles to the bathroom to put on his mask.

He puts on clothes that were given to him to where, simple clothes that were probably bought in bulk, but it’s a clever disguise. With all the effort the doctors have put in, he looks alive. He could fool anyone, until you got too close and you noticed that he wasn’t breathing right because Kieren still hadn’t gotten the hang of remembering to breathe regularly.

Glancing at Alex’s bed, he pulls out the envelope Alex gave him. All it contains is a website and a password:

> www.undeadliberationarmy.co.uk                                          revelations_1.18

He vaguely wonders what could be so important about a tiny slip of paper, but he brushes it off for the moment when he hears the door unlock. The person who comes in only says one sentence, but it made him more anxious than he’s ever been.

“Your folks are here, mate.”

* * *

 

Seeing his parents again was awkward to say the least. His mother would not stop crying and his father tries to sooth her. He hadn’t really thought of what his death would do to them and he catches himself pulling at the sleeve that hides his countdown from view. He can’t fix what’s already happened. He can’t. He still can’t do anything. He focuses back in on the real world when he hears his father talking about how he looks.

“Oh- uh, it’s the cover up mousse,” Kieren mumbles, gesturing at his face, “Makes me look… better.”

His family doesn’t say anything about it. Instead his doctor approaches them and starts explaining things.

“It’s going to take some time for everyone to adjust, that’s normal,” he reassures, “How’s the move been?”

His parents don’t say anything for a second before his mother speaks up.

“There’s been some difficulties.”

“Things have changed in Roarton, haven’t they, Sue,” his father butts in, and Kieren can tell he’s trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.

“It’s much less radical,” his mother confesses after pausing for a beat.

It’s interesting to imagine, Roarton open minded. That’s positive; he was hoping the town would change eventually. His doctor doesn’t seem to share his positive outlook.

“Really? Because from what I’ve heard Roarton is quite infamous for…” his doctor pauses, “… its views on assimilation.”

His father shakes his head, “No, not anymore. It’s, it’s become much more tolerant.”

Kieren knows it’s a lie, but he’s hoping that for once things will be alright.

* * *

 

On the way home Kieren examines the world that went on without him. He sees his familiar gray world, always looking as if the sky will start to pour at any second. But what he doesn’t remember is the abbreviation “HVF”.

“Who are the HVF?” he asks, turning his gaze to his parents.

Neither of them answer him, and he enters into a friendly, “safe” conversation with his father about movies. He owes it to him to spend time with him, and his father’s always liked movies. He listens to his father continue to babble about the speakers and movies he bought, and looks outside at the world. A world of gilded walls and descending numbers.

* * *

 

He doesn’t want to think about the rest of the car ride home. It was too full of panic and discord for him to want to spend much time thinking about. His parents had looked so terrified. Was this what his world had become? Just another world full of fear, but now with a dead heart. The numbers on his arm itched, but maybe it was the stitches.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SO LONG!!!!!! I'm going to try and update more regularly, but college is brutal.
> 
> Also, would anyone mind if I wanted to speed up this fic? I have future chapters written with Simon, but I don't have the Rick ones written... What do you think I should do? 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW IF YOU HAVE TIME!


	5. Jem, Amy, and Rick

                Seeing Jem again wasn’t at all what Kieren thought it would be like. She came into the house while the family was awkwardly trying to “eat” dinner, dressed in camo with a band around her arm with the letters “HFV” stamped on it. She looked more mature, her hair longer and her missing tooth finally having grown in. He looked at her and tried to give her a reassuring smile and a polite hello, but she immediately went on offense.

                “What is _he_ doing here?” She accused, her voice sharp unlike the pitchy notes of puberty that used to mar it.

                In Kieren’s opinion, _he_ sounded much more like _it_. As if Kieren was a disease that was going to pollute the house and infect everyone. He didn’t really blame her so much on that, he didn’t really know what to classify himself as either. He didn’t pay much attention to his parents’ failed attempts at getting Jem to sit at the table to join them, there wasn’t much of a point in doing it. What he was focused on was Jem’s covered arm.

                From the day that Jem learned what the counting down numbers meant, she kept them exposed to the world. Even if the weather was beyond freezing, Jem wanted to easily be able to glance down at the descending numbers. She thought it was similar to fairytales and Kieren thought it was too cute to try and convince her to change the habit. Only now the arm was completely covered, and if he was seeing correctly, the arm was wrapped in another clothe underneath.

                He felt dread fill his stomach at the thought of her soulmate being dead and he hoped that it was just some form of protection of the numbers.  He didn’t want Jem to have to go through that.

* * *

 

                Later on that night, as Kieren lied awake staring up at his ceiling he heard his door creak open. It was Jem with her arm still covered up tight. She looked hesitant and angry and Kieren did his best to look as nonthreatening as possible.

                “What’ve you done with him?” She asked quietly. He didn’t understand the question and just frowned at her. Jem’s lips pursed as she leaned down into his face. “Wearing my brother’s skin may work on Mum and Da, but not on me. My brother died years ago, you aren’t him. So what did you do with him?”

                It stung a little for Kieren to hear his sister say something like that to him, but he had prepared himself for such a reaction. “It’s me, Jem, I’m sorry.”

                It sounded much worse when said out-loud, as if he didn’t care that he was causing such problems for his family. Jem seemed to think so too because she collapsed on his bed. “Why did you do it?” She sounded so defeated and it dawned on Kieren that he hadn’t really thought about his family all that much when he had… died.

                “I just wanted to disappear. After Rick-“

                “Screw Rick! What about your family?! We- You left us Kieren!”

                Kieren didn’t know how to respond to that; he didn’t really know how to respond to a lot of things. It seemed his family relationships were as bad as his relationship with his soulmate.

* * *

 

                Amy was a gift. Minus the part of her scaring the life out of him (pun not intended), she was his best friend. She was quirky and odd and he loved her for it. Despite her countdown being set for a matter of days, she insisted that they were going to get married. In a way it was similar to Rick’s idealism of the two of them getting married, except Amy’s offer of marriage seemed friendly, more sincere. It was odd to think that Rick’s love and desire for marriage hadn’t been out of romantic feelings, but to avoid that thought of being alone in a world where soulmates were becoming the norm.

                His parents didn’t understand Amy, she was so bubbly and positive, the complete opposite of Kieren on a good day. Yet she complemented him. She was full of life, yearning to try new things and be accepted like everyone else. It was when he invited her up into his room that he found out why she was so excited about being alive again.

                “Leukemia,” she told him softly, her shirt open showing off odd scars that were a result of her cancer. “I thought it was so unfair that I barely had a chance to enjoy living while I was alive. I just-“ Amy’s voice dissolved into watery phrases at the end that he was unable to understand. After taking a moment to calm herself down she turned her attention back to him. “How did you feel when you died?”

                Kieren looked listlessly at his walls, searching for the right words. “Relieved,” he sighed out, “happy that it was over.”

                Amy looked disgruntled at his reply as if the words stung her. “Relieved? H-how did you croak, Kieren Walker?”

                It was with a bitter smile that Kieren slowly rolled his sleeves up to show his shame. The slashed numbers looked even more grotesque in the fluorescent lighting of his room. Amy delicately grasped his wrists and pulled them to her as if any more pressure and she’d rip them apart. “W-why?” she whispered, horror slipping into her question.

                “Everything stopped,” Kieren started, but finding that answer to be too vague he continued, “I lost my best friend, and the same day I l-lost my soulmate. Neither seemed to have wanted me so I-“

                He hadn’t expected to be so emotional about the topic, but as his bottom lip started to quiver he clammed up. Amy didn’t need any more information before she wrapped him in a tight hug, whispering reassurances that his soulmate was alive and that there was hope. Kieren did nothing but gaze at the picture of Rick, not knowing if moving on to find his soulmate was somehow betraying him.

* * *

 

                Rick was back. A PDS sufferer just like Kieren, except he wasn’t. No one treated Rick like he was a “Rotter”, like he had some kind of disease. If anything, Rick was treated like royalty. Like some lucky war veteran that was finally found when he used to be MIA.

                It was wonderful. At first. It was like before, but Rick was uncomfortable with Kieren’s… condition. As if Kieren being a zombie was a personal offense to him. It turned out that Rick’s hesitancy for romance was more due to his father than Kieren’s condition.

                When left in the truck by themselves, Rick started talking to Kieren in earnest.

                “So… what happened?”

                It was a simple question, but left Kieren feeling nauseated. “You died, Rick and I-“

                “You had your whole life ahead of you! You had art school and your family and your soulmate-“

                “My soulmate died, Rick.”

                It was a straightforward answer, no sugar coating or avoiding the topic. It caused Rick to pause in his angry rant and take a minute to look at Kieren.

                “… What?”

                “My soulmate died the day of your funeral, Rick,” he whispered, unable to make his voice any louder. “It was all too much, everyone was leaving and your death was my-“

                Their conversation was interrupted by Rick’s father asking them if they were ever going to join the other men in their hunt for the rogue “Rotters”. It was the last time Rick and Kieren got to speak to each other.

* * *

 

                Rick’s death was all a blur. There was intense depression and anger at the world and Rick’s father. The decimated form of his best mate and at one point “lover” was defiling his garage. It was the last thing he had expected after sending Amy off to find herself. He had lost his support group. His parents didn’t understand and Jem wasn’t trying to and Amy was gone. So he ran.

                It was almost identical to the incident where Rick died and his soulmate followed soon after. He couldn’t handle that. He’d already experienced it once and it had broken him. So he sat in his and Rick’s hideout in the cave, gazing up at their names with glassy eyes. It’d be just like before, just like before…

                His mother found him later and talked him out of doing anything stupid, but the urge was still there. This town was suffocating him; too many bad memories encompassed him. Reconciling with his family had helped though, and maybe he’d get better. He had Amy to wait for and his soulmate apparently.

                His life was far from perfect, but maybe with his soulmate by his side he could do it. Just two more months and he’d meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is; the conclusion of season 1 (THANK GOD)! Thank you for putting up with me and I already have the next chapter written so I can post that either today or in the next couple of days.


	6. Soulmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieren has been waiting for this day for his whole life and undead life. The day he gets to meet his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to publish this, but I got too excited and decided to post it early.

Kieren knew he was going to meet his soulmate today. Even though he kept his arms covered to avoid the uncomfortable truth of his death, he still saw the countdown whenever he got dressed and showered, not that he really needed to. His countdown was maybe an hour from the moment he got dressed, the numbers had never seemed so real, so tangible.

His parents were excited at the prospect of Kieren going to France, although Amy was not. But for once Kieren’s life was looking up. He had a goal in mind, a soulmate to meet. Perhaps his plans about going to France would be delayed to convince his soulmate to go with him, but it’d be wonderful.

Perhaps he’d meet his soulmate on the way to join up with Amy. She insisted he had to meet her betrothed and who was Kieren to deny her, he had his title of her official BDFF to uphold. Perhaps he was supposed to feel hurt that Amy had replaced him while she was gone but he was happy for her. She deserved to live. It was exciting to hear that Amy had found her soulmate while she was away.

He fantasized about his own soulmate, like he used to before his death and condition. He wondered what he’d be like, his face, his aspirations, his achievements, even what clothing he wore crossed his mind. It was strange, being so consumed by thoughts that had evaded him for so long. Now that he thought about it, what if his soulmate was a woman? Kieren spent a couple of moments chuckling at the thought, but he was sure they’d make it work even if his soulmate was a woman. They were destined after all.

His whole outlook on life had become much better after what had happened two months ago. His family was closer and Kieren and Jem were starting to fix the rift that had formed between them after his death. By no means was it perfect, but she had gotten more comfortable with him about certain topics and was able to call him her “little brother”. Cheeky girl.

He took his walk to the graveyard at a leisurely pace, not in any rush to reach his destination. He let his mind simmer beneath imperfect fantasies of a blurred body, wispy impressions of a hand grasped in his. This was it. He’d waited his whole life, and second life for this moment. That tingling sensation and gut-clenching moment that would solidify that there they were, his soulmate. It was enough to make his undead body shiver in anticipation.

Kieren reached the graveyard without even realizing it, not running into a single person on the way. It was strange. Most people went out for groceries or some socializing at the very least at this time of day. Granted, people could be staying inside a bit more after hearing about the PDS sufferers going mad on that train. Even Kieren had to admit that the event had bothered him. His thoughts on the people of Roarton came to a halt when he saw a man. A man who was perched on _his_ _grave_.

Words stumbled out of his mouth without him realizing it. “Excuse me, but you’re uh you’re sitting on me grave.” It wasn’t a smooth sentence, but it got the job done.

The man turned at his words and quirked his head to the side. “This you?” he asked, receiving a nod from Kieren. “Oh, sorry.”

Kieren watched as the man gracefully lifted himself off Kieren’s grave. Jean-clad legs went up to meet a revolting green sweater underneath a gray jacket with a furred hood. The man’s skin the same as his, when it wasn’t slathered in the mousse that made his family and the general public more comfortable. Beautiful white eyes surrounded by hollowed sockets and sharp cheekbones. Slicked back black hair crowned his head. Kieren thought he was like artwork, marble that had been chiseled to perfection. He was so caught up in his examination of the man that almost missed what he was saying.

“Didn’t realize you were one of us, all that,” the man gestured at his face with his hand, “on your face.”

Kieren raised his eyebrows slightly at the statement but didn’t say a word. Amy had said something similar the day before, about how he should embrace what he is and how he looks. It was easy for her to say, Amy was always beautiful, Kieren couldn’t say the same about himself.

“Do you?” The man asked, pointing at Kieren’s grave. He didn’t wait for a reply before he was bending down and reading it. “Gone is the face we loved so dear, silent the voice we loved to hear.”

Kieren thought his epitaph was even stupider when it was read aloud, who had even picked that?

“It rhymes,” the man encouraged, trying to find something positive to say about it.

“I didn’t choose it,” Kieren reassured, trying to defend himself.

“What would you have chosen?”

“A poem?” Kieren questioned, not knowing himself what it would have been. “I kind of wanted to be cremated.” It wasn’t the best thing to say, but the man didn’t comment.

The other man licked his lips before beginning to recite a poem. “I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.” It rolled off his tongue with practiced ease and Kieren vaguely wondered if the man had practiced reciting it at some point in his life. “That’s what I’d have wanted.”

Kieren didn’t ask about what was actually on the man’s grave.

“Oh great! You guys have met!” Amy’s voice rang out in the graveyard and Kieren’s eyes looked more firmly at the man. This man was who his best friend was betrothed to.

“Not formally,” the man told her politely.

“Well, Kieren Walker, this is Simon,” she introduced. “Kieren was the one I was telling you about.” The man, Simon, simply nodded his head. She turned her attention back to Kieren. “Simon is one of the twelve disciples of the Undead Prophet.”

She sounded so excited, and Kieren could only muster up enough enthusiasm for a weak, “oh. Right.”

The man looked at him with a questioning gaze. “You’ve heard of the Liberation movement, Kieren?”

“I’ve heard some disturbing stuff,” Kieren admitted, thinking of the train incident.

“Like what?”

“People taking pills and going rabid on public transport.”

Simon had the audacity to laugh at this statement.

Seeing his uncomfortable face, Amy tried to reassure him. “That wasn’t the ULA, Handsome.”

Her term of endearment did nothing to sooth him. “They took Blue Oblivion pills and quoted Revelations, Amy,” he countered.

“How many people died in that tram attack?” Simon questioned.

“Five. Including my next door neighbor.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kieren couldn’t tell if Simon was lying or not about his condolences. “But there are atrocities that happen on both sides.” Simon went on to list a couple of incidents where the undead were mistreated, “the judge said that Partially Deceased people were only half a person.”

“I don’t agree with that either,” Kieren retorted calmly.

“The Undead Liberation Army is about protecting The Redeemed from the Living. Because no one else will.”

It sounded almost too self-righteous in Kieren’s opinion but he kept listening.

“’When injustice becomes law resistance becomes duty.’” Amy chimed in from the sidelines.

“Exactly.”

Kieren finally felt the need to speak his piece. “Yeah well, if you could keep your resisting to yourselves that’d be great,” he told them. He understood what they were trying to do, but they were just going to make it harder for people like them in Roarton. “This place has had its troubles. It’s moved on. There’s no need to cause more of it.”

Simon quirked his eyebrows at him. “How would we be causing trouble?”

“I don’t know, by going around like you are.”

“Like we are?” Simon asked skeptically, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Without your mousse and contacts in,” Kieren rephrased to try and get them to understand.

“This is who we are, dum dum,” Amy said with a smile.

“Yes, I know Amy-“

“It’s who you are, Kieren,” Simon stated, willing Kieren to keep eye contact with him. “And running away won’t change that.”

“I’m not…” Kieren paused. Was he running away? No, he was going to find his soulmate and start a new life. “I’m going to start a new life.”

Simon frowned at his statement. “You’ve already been given a new life,” he reassured, “And you can live it here. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Not long after that Kieren found an excuse to leave the pair. He wasn’t expecting to be harassed about his desire for a peaceful life. If he had to comply with a few things, who was he to judge?

It was then, on his way home, that he remembered his countdown. He pulled up his sleeve, even though he already knew what he’d see. Green numbers slashed through: ~~00:00:00:00:00:00:00~~. He’d met his soulmate, Simon Monroe. They’d talked, almost argued in the short time they’d known each other.

Kieren felt sick or the sense-memory of feeling sick. He’d met his soulmate. His countdown had reached zero. He hadn’t felt anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've met Simon! And I ruined another happy moment (I don't know whether to congratulate myself or feel ashamed). Anyway, I hope you liked their meeting. Was it too close to the original? 
> 
> If you have any suggestions please leave them in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you all like this so far! Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think :)


End file.
